


The Message

by Heather_Night



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Deran rolled over and squinted at the clock:  6 o’fuckingclock in the morning.  Why was someone pounding on his door at this hour?He’d gotten home only three hours ago, threw shit around the kitchen because he realized he’d missed a call from Adrian who was on the other side of the fucking world and wasn’t picking up now, before smoking a joint and tumbling into bed.Fuck his life.Except he had the guy everyone wanted to be—or do—as well as a fantastic beachfront house.And last, but not fucking least, The Drop.  His bid for independence was really paying off.  Hecouldgo legit and make it.If only his family would give him some breathing room.
Relationships: Deran Cody/Adrian Dolan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32
Collections: Animal Kingdom ▶ Deran Cody / Adrian Dolan





	The Message

**Author's Note:**

> I think if you plunk this down somewhere during Season Four before Deran finds out about Adrian's extracurricular shenanigans it could be considered canon compliant. At least up to that point. I didn't tag it that way because this didn't happen.
> 
> I couldn't figure out how to tag this story so if you have suggestions, please let me know.

Deran rolled over and squinted at the clock: 6 o’fuckingclock in the morning. Why was someone pounding on his door at this hour?

He’d gotten home only three hours ago, threw shit around the kitchen because he realized he’d missed a call from Adrian who was on the other side of the fucking world and wasn’t picking up now, before smoking a joint and tumbling into bed.

Fuck his life.

Except he had the guy everyone wanted to be—or do—as well as a fantastic beachfront house.

And last, but not fucking least, The Drop. His bid for independence was really paying off. He _could_ go legit and make it.

If only his family would give him some breathing room.

The hard rapping on the door started up again and Deran reluctantly rolled out of bed. He shimmied into the shorts on the floor—his favorite shorts and apparently Adrian’s too—before staggering out into the living room.

He didn’t even check to see who was there, which was a rookie mistake, instead whipping it open to stop the incessant pounding.

Pearce darkened his doorstep. 

He thought about slamming the door closed in the cop’s face but that wouldn’t make the problem disappear, it would just delay it. “What.” He imbued the one syllable with all the unhappiness and hostility he could manage at this hour. 

“I want to talk to you about your bar.” 

Deran was so surprised he allowed Pearce to brush past him and step inside. 

The last time Pearce had wanted Deran to do the talking. About his family.

This was a new tactic and Deran didn’t like it one bit. Crossing his arms, he glared. “So, talk.”

Pearce obliged him. “The Drop is gone. Burned down to the ground and looks like arson. Who did you piss off?”

Deran shook his head. That couldn’t be true. 

He stomped into the kitchen and found his phone where he’d slammed in down onto the counter after missing Adrian earlier. There were missed calls from unknown numbers but he recognized one; Wayne, one of his bartenders.

“Deran, I just went by The Drop and there are fire engines and smoke and The Drop is…are you okay?” The message went on but Deran didn’t hear anymore.

He leaned against the counter, suddenly feeling winded. _His baby._ Burned to a crisp.

Once he collected himself, he pushed off the surface and turned. Pearce’s head was tilted, staring at him. Like he was some bug beneath a microscope.

“It was fine when I left it three hours ago.” Deran’s voice cracked with stress. 

Pearce hovered just outside the kitchen area, faint smirk on his face. “Oh, I know.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Deran straightened to his full height which was still inches short of Pearce. 

The other guy shrugged in his cheap suit. “I was there, watched you leave. Followed you home.”

Rubbing his forehead, Deran tried to think. He didn’t understand why this was happening. He wanted to say it wasn’t fair, he’d been going straight, but that meant he hadn’t been before. 

_Fuck_. He hated when he couldn’t control the situation. 

He squared his shoulders. “Why are you following me?”

“There’s been some chatter that you’ve gone straight. Does your buddy Adrian know that?” Oh, yeah, Deran wanted to punch the smirk right off his face; he couldn’t believe the smart-assed detective had made a stupid homo joke. Although how did Pearce even know about Adrian? That was bad.

His panicked musings stuttered to a halt when Pearce continued. “Does Smurf know?”

Yeah, Smurf knew. Knew Deran was committed to Adrian, that he wanted out of the family business.

Smurf wasn’t happy on either count although in typical Smurf fashion, she hadn’t said anything.

But when Smurf wasn’t happy, everyone knew it.

“I’m not going to talk about my family.” Deran knew talking wasn’t an option.

Pearce dropped the smirk. “I thought you’d say that. But here’s the thing: I think someone in your family just tried sending you a message. When you’re ready to talk, let me know.”

The guy slid a card onto the counter before he ambled to the door and left.

Deran staggered across the room and collapsed onto the couch.

The Drop probably was destroyed.

It probably was a message.

He dropped his face into his hands, shoulders bowed and tried to stem the oncoming panic attack.

He’d put everything he had—blood, sweat and tears—into The Drop. It was his life. What was he going to do now? His dream was falling apart.

-0-

The back door slid open startling Deran so bad he just about hit the ceiling. He blinked his bleary eyes, watching as Adrian walked into the room.

Deran never got tired of looking at the guy. He was model perfect with his bright eyes and white teeth and sleek muscles. The freckles probably marred the perfection but Deran loved the brown-red spots scattered across his whole body which matched his hair color.

Loved to touch those freckles.

Loved to kiss them.

Bite them, too.

Adrian squawked when he saw Deran sitting on the couch. “Fuck you just about gave me a heart attack.” His hand covered his chest. “I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you up since you worked last night.”

“What are you doing home?” Deran barely recognized his own voice.

Dropping his bag next to the couch, Adrian stripped out of his jacket. Deran fucking loved the way his shirt pulled across his wide chest, hugged his muscled arms, molded his small waist.

Shrugging, he smiled. “I wanted to surprise you. I was supposed to get in earlier and I would’ve gone straight to The Drop but there was a delay at the airport.”

Deran’s brain seized up. _Adrian had almost gone to The Drop. He could’ve surprised whoever torched it._

_He could’ve died._

Dropping to his knees in front of Deran, Adrian tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” He put his hands on Deran’s thighs and squeezed.

“The Drop…someone set it on fire. I think it’s a complete loss.” The insurance adjustor had stopped to assess the damage but Deran couldn’t bring himself to go.

Not yet.

It really did feel like the end of a dream.

“I can’t believe it.” His voice croaked and he was embarrassed but before he could shore up his crumbling emotions, Adrian threw his arms around Deran’s waist and hugged him tight.

It was awkward with Adrian on the floor, between his spread legs, but it was the best hug Deran had received in a long fucking time.

“I’m so sorry, Deran. I know The Drop was the most important thing in your life…,” Adrian kept talking, consoling him, but Deran tuned out his words. The touch was comfort enough.

He’d thought The Drop was the most important thing in his life but that wasn’t true; Adrian was more important.

Someone had sent a message to Deran and he was as scared as he’d ever been in his life. If someone took out Adrian, Deran might live through it but his life would be crap.

The Drop had been his dream but it was just a place.

Just a job.

Adrian was forever. His friend. His confidante. His lover.

Despite the half-truths, the subterfuge, Deran wanted Adrian almost to the point of obsession.

He _needed_ Adrian to live.

Deran was not a nice guy. Typically, he met violence with violence. He wanted more than anything to set fire to the person who’d burned down The Drop. Taken away his dream. More importantly, threatened Adrian.

He couldn’t do anything at the moment about the situation but the depression had lifted, leaving manic energy in its wake. He _needed_ to take back some control, try to salvage the shitty day.

Gripping a handful of hair at the back of Adrian’s head, he yanked it upward so he could stare at his lover. Adrian’s face was flushed pink almost obscuring the freckles painted across his nose and cheeks. His deep blue eyes sparkled at Deran with emotion.

He needed to touch Adrian. To mark him. 

Claim him.

Deran loosed his grip on Adrian’s hair and watched the surprise and disappointment bloom across his face. For all his violent tendencies, Adrian had them, too. He was a thrill seeker. Liked his sex rough, too.

Stroking his left hand down Adrian’s back, Deran pushed against Adrian’s spine through the material of his shirt. Letting him know it was Deran touching him. Lulling him into a sense of security.

It _was_ all about control and Deran took it. He lunged forward, threading his right hand between Adrian’s legs, fingers grasping and squeezing. He yanked upward and Adrian’s strangled cry sent a surge of adrenaline rocketing through his body. 

Adrian groaned, scrambling to escape Deran’s touch, propelling himself off his knees until he collapsed with a huff onto to Deran’s lap. Right where Deran wanted him.

The rest of his life might be in chaos, but this, Adrian in his arms panting with need, would sustain him.

Deran was sick of secrets. Of his family. Of lacking control.

The Drop had been his baby but Adrian was his whole fucking world. He just needed to figure out how to keep his world safe.

In the meantime, Deran could remind Adrian he belonged to Deran.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> The Drop takes the hit for the hurt/comfort bingo prompt loss of treasured possession. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
